


What Does Freedom Taste Like?

by nicelxser



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale doesn't fall, Aziraphale's thoughts, Couch Cuddles, Depression, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by a Hozier Song, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s01e06 The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22063600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicelxser/pseuds/nicelxser
Summary: One cold winter night, after the notpocalypse, Aziraphale is overthinking. This was not unusual for him, but this time a certain demon is there (waiting for him outside his door). Crowley helps his angel work through his thoughts, and they break open some champagne to celebrate.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 13





	What Does Freedom Taste Like?

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically my first fic so be gentle?  
> Many apologies for the over use of commas.  
> I tried to write like I thought Aziraphales thoughts would be like (when not feeling anxious) sorry if some of the language is weird, but tell me if you like it.  
> I have sat on this story for a few days now, trying to figure out exactly what I want it to be. I believe it is now a little drabble about Aziraphale's state of mind catching up with his reality after the notpocalypse.

For the angel and the demon, on that fateful day in Tadfield, freedom felt like staring Satan in the face and saying they refused to fight anymore. The next week, freedom felt like the adrenaline wearing off and the reality of what their bosses would do to them setting in. Finally, when the two were back in their own bodies, freedom felt like it was supposed to feel like. 

It felt like giggling and smiles that pulled on their faces for no reason. Freedom was late nights out together, dining at the Ritz and then going for a stroll around town clinging to each other and resisting the urge to kiss the ground they walked on. 

During a drunken stupor one night, Aziraphale cries during one of Crowley's favorite movies (Braveheart), blubbering something about what it is to feel freedom when everything else is lost. Crowley didn't know what he meant, but they both started yelling freedom and shaking each others shoulders with bleary eyes. 

So, weeks not spent stopping the apocalypse and crying drunkenly over bad movies are horribly boring to the angel. 

Aziraphale is an immortal being who has been around from the very beginning. He was one of many who could say that, amongst millions of other angels (both Fallen and the like). The angel found this fact quite depressing. 

However, he is quite content to say after living a good majority if his time on earth surrounding himself with his rare book collection, he is one of the few who can truly appreciate his existence.

Everyone needs a hobby. Admittedly, he has considered the possibility that God may have not wanted this kind of life for an angel. That perhaps She believes they could not handle it, but he knows that something would have been said if She didn't want it. That his existence is, in fact, part of the ineffable plan. He can feel it; what kind of angel would he be if he couldn't? 

Admittedly, part of the reason he believes She is the reason, is because he is still able to sit down for cocoa on cool winter nights, such as this one, and he is always silently grateful for the peace. 

Aziraphale knows another who can appreciate existence like he does. The very one who he spent so much of his time on earth denying. The demon Crowley. Aziraphale's mind drifts to Crowley several times a day, in a philosophical manner—of course. Honestly, reader, get your head out of the gutter. 

Aziraphale doesn't lie to Crowley when he talks of their inherit nature, as an angel and a demon, which the demon seems to frequently forget and continues to tempt and persuade Aziraphale to do something only slightly sinful anyway. Aziraphale's rambling can become a bit too much for even himself sometimes. For how can it be a lie when you don't truly know, and you were once too innocent to ask? And while It may be because the demon has tempted him to change his opinions, the angel figures there is 'no harm done.'

Aziraphale cannot remember what happened during the fall, exactly. As many angels cannot. Crowley accounts for a number of demons only filled with a sense of what they had done. 

Aziraphale, over the years, had come to the belief that while your situation can lead a hefty influence on who you are, so can where you come from; or, who you are at your very core. This is where the 'inherent' differences come in. Crowley will also tell him neither of them really inherited much of anything. They just sort of poofed. Aziraphale knows that this is probably the difference between the two. He hopes so, because Crowley and his relationship has changed dramatically since the whole antichrist and apocalypse business. 

Aziraphale believes Crowley can appreciate human nature, but in a different way. Crowley has perplexed Aziraphale for the longest time. For 6 millennia, Aziraphale had always thought that demons were evil because that's just their nature. It has recently become clear to Aziraphale that Crowley was, or is, an agent of mischief. Sure, he's taken down a mobile network for a day and rerouted the M-25, but evil? The worst thing Aziraphale can think of Crowley doing is what the humans have dubbed “original sin.” Though on the same day Aziraphale gave his flaming sword to eve, which ended up in the hands of war. To this day Aziraphale still wonders who did the right thing that day. 

In the words of another one of Crowley's favorite movies that Aziraphale can't quite place, Crowley, "wouldn't harm a fly." The demon would however, yell at his plants in a frustrated tone after hearing the angel say this. He would probably also make Aziraphale watch the whole movie again thinking he has missed the point. Aziraphale never tells him this but he thinks about doing it just to spend a day curled up with Crowley. 

Tears spill onto the book Aziraphale had opened a few—oh, it’s midnight already? The angel's cocoa had grown cold, and with a quick miracle it was warm again. With whiskey this time. 

Aziraphale is perfectly fine immersing himself in books, his collection of first editions in his cozy bookshop being a subject of great pride for centuries. His thoughts once again trailing off to Crowley. He drinks half the cocoa in one gulp. 

Unlike the angel, Crowley would rather immerse himself into the world itself. Aziraphale would never admit this to the other, for it would give him an ego of an immeasurable size, but he admires the demon for this. Books, to the angel, are just that. He adores them because it gives the angel a means to truly understand humanity. So he can begin to understand them; so he can begin to understand himself. Yes, he has 'lived' in his 6,000 years on earth, and thoroughly enjoyed it. But Crowley never stops. Doesn't pause to study as Aziraphale needs to. Why would Crowley stop for Aziraphale? Aziraphale has always felt separated from humanity, although he is supposed to be a being of love, and originally, protection, he can't understand what it means to be human—so how can he begin to give them the love and protection that they require and rightfully deserve? A being of divine protection needs to understand what he is protecting, after all. Crowley would surely run away if he knew the angel had thoughts such as these. 

Gabriel is very, very insistent about his paperwork. About the frivolous miracles. About his own corporation, even. He's already blew his chanc- but he's already made up his mind about who's side he's on. But old habits die hard, especially when you're stuck in a lifetime that feels like it should have been someone else's. Aziraphale would have been able to do something about someone else's life. Protect a human better than he could himself. Oh, thinks the angel, I can surely do better with anything or anyone when compared to myself.

Aziraphale is thankful he hasn’t fallen. His collection wouldn’t be able to handle the spontaneous tears. Aziraphale repairs the book in a gentle miracle and sets it back on its shelf. Thinking to himself: I couldn’t protect a couple of humans, and now it seems books are becoming a challenge for me as well. Aziraphale curses himself for both wishing he could have smitten Crowley back in Eden as it was his job to do and wishing harm on someone he loves dearly. He doesn’t want to call himself an angel anymore, but only in the since that he would consider discorporating himself if he knew it wouldn’t harm Crowley in the process. Since Aziraphale cannot do this, the angel leans his head over and weeps, moving his books out of the way this time. 

He only stops when he sees light steeping in through the windows. Getting up to put a note on the door that reads “We aren’t open today,” Aziraphale notices Crowley himself sleeping on his doorstep.

As a snake.

Tears threaten to fall again but before they do Aziraphale picks up Crowley, brings him inside, and sets him atop a knitted blanket. Aziraphale makes tea for the both of them for when Crowley wakes up, as Aziraphale believes that one can taste the extra effort and love that went into it. When Aziraphale comes back from his kitchen, Crowley is human shaped again under the knitted blanket. 

“Dearest boy,” Aziraphale means to scold, but his voice comes out as a croak. “Where you out there all night?”

Crowley takes the tea Aziraphale is offering him and says, “I had a dream about you smiting me, like back in Eden.”

And with those words, Aziraphale's heart sinks into his stomach. The two sip their tea in silence for an eternity. Both are too afraid to speak. 

Aziraphale finally speaks up. 

"I know what the demons felt like. I know what it feels like to fall." Azriaphale said, now suddenly feeling bad but too upset to not continue, "granted… not in the same since as you my dear."

The angel continues, "and I don't mean to give Hastur or Beelzebub my sympathy. But I don't even lend any out to myself, dear."  
Crowley looks up at the angel with an emotion in his eyes the angel can't quite place. 

"I feel so empty and angry and full of emotions and I don't know where to put it. I used to take solace…" Aziraphale trails off, his expression unreadable and his eyes on the window, focusing on the falling snow and the frosted windowsill. 

"I could find it in places that were not myself. In God. In books. In you, Cowley! I found so much solace in you! Our meetings…" The angel swallows the frog in his throat, but it leaves him with an upset tummy and so he stops. He has to. The blasted frog won't let him speak. He feels like he's back in Heaven, even though he knows he's not. His corporeal body is ready to escape as fast as possible. His corporeal body feels like he's about to be scolded by Michael and Gabriel. If he speaks, tears will fall from his eyes and he can't do that now. Crowley's here, he reminds himself. 

I'm safe. 

I'm safe.

I'm safe. 

"Now there's momentary happiness." he finally says once and he can. Aziraphale puffs air out through his nose. "Momentary relief, more like." 

"Things are okay but they are only simply just that. The apocalypse didn't happen. We lived. and I still talk to God and for a while I thanked her for letting us live and now I just talk to Her, well, like I am to you now. About the apocalypse and my worries." He takes a deep shaky breath. "I sort of hope She listens." 

"I talk to Her too." 

"What"

"About you. About the humans." Crowley says, as if he said something he something he shouldn't have. And before Aziraphale can say anything else the demon blurts "I'm always so afraid of losing you, you know. I figure They'd listen if I'm asking after one of Hers."

They sit in silence. Both the angel and the demon feel exposed, but both are not quick to do anything about it. 

"But why wouldn't you tell me you feel this worried, angel?" Crowley's brows are furrowed, but his eyes are brimmed with tears he won't let fall. 

"I think you'd find it awful to hear more about more mundane things. Oh dear, I know how terribly annoying I am." 

Before Crowley can speak, Aziraphale speaks up again. "When compared to you, my dear. I have to let out how much I enjoy our conversation, the hot cocoa you make me, and even our walks in St. James. I didn't think you'd want to hear about it if you were-"

"What makes you think She listens?" Crowley blurts.

"Nothing in particular." Aziraphale says, feeling lost. But he can't be can he? Because Crowley is right there. 

Crowley was not expecting a quick answer from the angel. 

"I don't think I'm going to stop talking to Her. Just somethin' I do now. I think I mean that the notpocalypse was a lot. And… I can be just as stuck in my ways as you can be-" 

"My dear-"

"But," he takes both of Aziraphale's hands in his, "I think we can both say we have a life we've left behind. And, for Someone's sake, I, for one, feel bloody ancient. We can let our old lives go, Angel, if we want to. I think we would have been stopped by now if Upstairs or my lot would have had a problem with it, don't ya think?" 

Aziraphale's gaze is fixed on their hands. Crowley's over his, like the demon's trying to keep him warm. And it's working. 

"It'll be nice to not be an oddball for once." 

"Says the man who dresses like a Victorian." 

"I don't see you complaining when we're stopped for photographs, dear boy." 

Aziraphale is smiling now. His heart is full and he dares to bat his eyes up at Crowley, in a way he knows could discorperate the demon. 

"Come dear," He says, not daring to move, "we should dig up some champagne. I believe I have some bottles from the 17th century. And this is as good of an occasion as any."

What Aziraphale doesn't mention is he could never drink when it was new, for whatever reason, he supposes. 

They spend the rest of their evening cuddled up on top of one of Aziraphale's favorite sofas, drinking and holding each other. 

Both feel grateful that they may finally get some peace and quiet now. Aziraphale feels the weight lift off of his shoulders as Crowley slinks around them.


End file.
